A protected Pacific archipelago balances conservation with new-found popularity

Tension builds within the cabin of the airliner as we descend through wispy cloud cover. From the clearing, we spot the rocky, otherworldly landscape of the Galapagos Islands emerging below, its brutally beautiful islands wreathed by endless cobalt seas. My fellow travellers have journeyed here from across the world, intent on exploring this most unique of Edens, an archipelago quite unlike any other. Cue a round of applause as we touch down on the tiny airstrip on Seymour Island.

Once the staple of ocean-crossing traders, scientific expeditions, and utopian idealists, Galapagos is now a UNESCO-protected archipelago 1,000km off the coast of Ecuador. Best known as the destination that inspired Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution, its 19 islands are a marvel of biodiversity; untouched, remote and at the whims of the vital ocean currents which swirl through their ranks. The islands are home to an abundance of endemic species which have proven increasingly infallible drawcards for intrepid and well-heeled travellers looking to leave the beaten path far behind.

Arriving guests undergo stringent biosecurity protocols before departing on guided tours of this living evolutionary laboratory; 97 per cent of archipelago is protected, either as the Galapagos National Park or as the Galapagos Marine Reserve (the second largest in the world), and with strict regulations governing tourism, independent travel is rare.

My wife and I gather with other travellers bound for the National Geographic Endeavour, one of two Galapagos-based vessels of the world’s oldest expedition travel company, Lindblad Expeditions, and their unique collaboration with the acclaimed nature and science magazine. Lindblad-National Geographic pioneered tourism to the Galapagos Islands, and have been bringing guests here since 1967. A former deep-sea trawler turned expedition ship, the National Geographic Endeavour caters to just 96 guests, making for the ideal platform from which to explore a destination blissfully lacking in infrastructure.

We have our first taste of Galapagos’ stunning wildlife on North Seymour Island, home to the largest population of blue-footed boobies in the archipelago. Boobies are the rock stars of the Galapagos; while they don’t have the reptilian thrill of the iguanas or the playfulness of the sea lions, their eye-catching pastel blue feet make them a firm favourite with camera-toting travellers, especially during breeding season when they perform comical mating dances which resemble a couple of plodding bobbies. They’re joined by frigate birds in their amorous inclinations; North Seymour is also home to one of the largest populations of these dynamic, jet-black sea birds. During mating season, males puff out distinctive red gular pouches on their chests in an attempt to get a little love.

With guidance from the ship’s highly-trained expedition staff, who follow strictly enforced conservation protocols, we work hard not to disturb these budding courtships. One needn’t worry; one of the wonderful things about Galapagos is that the wildlife has little concept of humans, enabling us to get closer to their rock-wreathed nests and romantic waltzes than we could to the average city-savvy seagull.

Conservation is at the core of the Galapagos experience. Despite tourism numbers tripling over the past 20 years, little has changed since Darwin cruised the Archipiélago de Colón in 1835; non-endemic predators are being eradicated and human habitation remains highly regulated. Guides trained by the national park (and in our case accredited by National Geographic), are the only ones allowed to lead tourists or land them on most of the chain’s islands. These guides follow strict expedition timetables and are charged with ensuring the archipelago’s wildlife never has to learn about mankind the hard way.

Most visitors cruise the islands, with a schedule of hikes and excursions broken up by daily lectures by experienced naturalists which encompasses the island’s unique biodiversity to its even more curious history. A snippet of the latter includes land wars between a glamorous Baroness and her young lovers, and clutches of German utopianists. In fact many of the ‘islanders’ trace their ancestry to these enigmatic early arrivals.

We continue our exploration at the archipelago’s youngest island (formed by active volcanoes, both above and below the waves, Galapagos’ youngest lands are to the west). At an estimated three hundred thousand years old, the Fernandina is the baby of the Galapagos family and one of the youngest islands in the world. An eruption last April shows she is still growing.

Ashore at Punta Espinoza via the ship’s sturdy military-grade zodiacs, we take turns to step onto lava the colour of espresso. It takes a little while for the eyes to adjust and for me to see that the black rock is encrusted with fat, soot-hued lizards, some the size of housecats. They lay on top of each other, absorbing the heat of the lava rock between dips in the pounding surf. These are marine iguanas, one of the most famous of Galapagos’ all-star wildlife cast and a species found nowhere else in the world. These sea-loving lizards, described by Darwin as ‘imps of darkness’, who first noticed their evolutionary divergence from iguanas on the mainland, can dive to nine meters in search of red algae, but must then return to the lava beds to warm up. Protected and complacent, these tiny Godzillas pay us no heed as we circle their collective clumps and trace the rugged coastline.

With a towering shield volcano at its centre, its flanks covered in powdered ash, Fernandina captures the essence of Galapagos perfectly; seal lion pups frolic in the shallows, one brave enough to waddle up for a sniff of my sneaker before bounding back to the water with a joyous bark. From a rocky outcrop we spy turtles grazing in a turquoise lagoon wreathed by lava banks, while endemic and endangered flightless cormorants, more comfortable diving the ocean depths than soaring the skies, watch us with brilliant azure eyes. Galapagos hawks circle on the thermals above as we make our way to a vast and desolate lava field that would cover an island the size of Hong Kong.

Wildlife is always a feature of daily shore excursions, hikes and snorkelling trips. On Isabela Island we follow a path of prickly pears and track pink flamingos with our National Geographic-trained photo guides, being greeted by shy Galapagos penguins and vibrant red and yellow land iguanas, the other branch of the evolutionary split. At Urbina Bay, a black sand beach at the base of Alcedo Volcano, we spy the tracks of sea turtles arriving to breed. On a snorkelling trip along the rocky coastline of San Salvador we swim with cheeky sea lions whizzing through the water like plump, whiskered jetfighters. Below, black-tipped reef sharks samba their way through the currents while green turtles drift in the depths, unfussed by our incursion. At Kicker Rock, a granite fang that juts from the ocean, we hover above a pair of graceful spotted eagle rays and try to keep up with juvenile sea lions, inquisitive little showoffs that love frolicking with aquatically-challenged visitors like us.

Tourism remains a controversial topic in the islands; locals want to capitalize on the influx of affluent adventure travellers, and island-hopping is increasingly popular, with 45 per cent of current visitors opting to explore land rather than sea. The local authorities, keen to distribute the rewards of increased tourist spend, have placed pressure on the Charles Darwin Research Station at Santa Cruz, a bastion of conservation policy that has focused its effort on education and preservation since opening in 1959.

While sea-based tourism is sustainable and heavily regulated by the International Galapagos Tour Operators Association, many new land operators are less focused on conservation than capitalism, and Galapagos’ tiny towns are awash with backpacker hostels, souvenir shops and new tour companies keen to tap into the island’s new found popularity. In the 1990s there was conflict between the government and fishermen protesting strict new fishing legislation. The anglers attacked the Charles Darwin Research Station, killing several rare tortoises. More recently the same authorities ordered the station’s gift shop closed in an effort to placate local souvenir dealers. The serious financial impact on the station, as much as US$400,000 per year, and its conservation efforts remain to be seen.

Fortunately the islands’ remoteness and its established regulation ensures change, for good or ill, will come slowly to Galapagos and in the meantime its dynamic and utterly enthralling wildlife will remain, naive and unhindered, as it was when Darwin first arrived at his “curious little world within itself.”